


Not Your Typical Lawn Decoration (or Beware of Where You Pass Out)

by alakewood



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: College AU, Drunkenness, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-26
Updated: 2011-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alakewood/pseuds/alakewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen finds Jared passed out on his lawn.  He knows he can't just leave the kid there, so he takes him inside.  Jared leaves pretty quickly the next morning after a brief conversation but returns a week later to offer his thanks.  Jensen's not exactly opposed to how their night ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Typical Lawn Decoration (or Beware of Where You Pass Out)

Jensen startles awake, neck twinging dully as he sits up straight – he's fallen asleep on the couch again. The house is dark and silent save for the flicker of color and low sounds coming from the TV and he can't determine what had woken him so suddenly. He stands and stretches, pressing efficient fingers into the tense muscles of his neck and rolling his head on his shoulders. Then he hears the sound again.

Retching. Deep, bottom-of-the-stomach heaves that are followed by a bout of coughing and spitting.

A glance at the clock tells him it's barely one so, even if Chris hadn't gone with Steve and the rest of the band to that gig in Dallas, it's way too early for his roommate to be stumbling home drunk. He pushes his glasses up onto his forehead as he rubs at his eyes and heads towards the front door. Peering out the screen into the dim front yard, all Jensen can see is a pair of sneakered feet on the sidewalk that leads up to the house, the rest of the body obscured by the overgrown bushes that flank the stairs.

Jensen heaves a sigh when, after standing at the door for a good five minutes, the guy – judging by the size of his ginormous sneakers – hasn't moved. He can't very well leave the kid out on the lawn.

The screen door stays open when Jensen pushes through – it hasn't been fixed since Chris and Steve took a tumble through it at Thanksgiving – and it clatters against the wrought iron rail as a too brief gust of wind blows down the street. He carefully makes his way down the sidewalk, mindful of any hint of vomit because he's barefoot.

The kid's tall, sprawled out over the patchy grass, half under the bushes. Jensen nudges the bottom of one of his shoes with a toe. “Hey, kid. You okay?”

He's met with silence and there's a brief moment where fear spikes in his chest as he rolls the kid over onto his back and he just flops into place like a rag doll and Jensen thinks maybe he's choked on his own puke- But no, there's a steady pulse throbbing in the kid's wrist under his fingers. Not dead, but definitely passed out cold.

Jensen pulls him up into a half-assed seated position and gets an arm under the kid's and around his back, hauls him up off the ground. He more or less drags him into the house and unceremoniously drops him onto the couch, peeling the kid's puke-splattered tee off of him because the stench is beginning to permeate the room. The kid's head lolls onto the back cushions of the couch and he really _is_ a kid. There's no way this boy before Jensen is old enough to be in college much less old enough to drink. Of course, Jensen isn't one to talk – he and Chris hadn't been much older than seventeen the first time they'd gotten trashed at a college party with Steve.

After situating the kid on the couch so he's mostly on his belly, face turned out, and a trash can nearby, Jensen takes the kid's shirt into the kitchen to wash it out in the sink. As he tosses it into the dryer with a wrinkled load of Chris' clothes, he hears a faint, unfamiliar tune. He follows the melody back into the living room, the music obviously the kid's ringtone. Jensen debates digging into the passed-out kid's pocket for the phone and the music cuts off, only to resume again half a minute later. Perhaps he's got friends looking for him. Jensen rolls the kid back just enough to fit two fingers into the pocket of his jeans to pull out the cell phone. “Hel-”

“Jay, where the fuck are you, man? Cops busted up the party and they're fucking _everywhere._ ”

“Um, hey. Your friend passed out in my yard-”

“Awesome. Can you, like, keep him?”

“What?” It's not like the kid's a puppy.

“Yeah. Just, um, 'til morning. 'Cause I think he lost his keys and his roommate – I'm pretty sure he just got arrested. So, um, yeah. There's really nowhere for Jay to go because I don't know any of his friends here, so. Just, like, keep him there.”

“ _I_ don't even know him.”

“Oh. Are you cool? Like, not a rapist or anything?”

“What?! Fuck, no!” Jensen can hardly believe this conversation is actually happening.

“Okay. Then, just keep him there. And don't, like, molest him. He gets all handsy when he's drunk. Like, _gropey._ ”

“Why can't you just come get him?” This is ridiculous.

“Oh. Um, me an' Aldis're headed back to San Antone. Getting' the hell outta Dodge an' all that.”

“You- So you just left him here?”

“Uh, well, no. Not exactly. He kind of wanders – a lot – when he's drunk and we couldn't find him. Just, you know, send him back to his dorm in the AM.”

“I can't-”

“Hey. Thanks. Jay- Jay'll appreciate it. Bye!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jensen asks the dead air that follows when Jay's _friend_ disconnects the call. “Your friend's a total douche bag,” he tells the kid – Jay – as he places the cell phone on the corner of the scratched, wooden coffee table.

Jay doesn't seem to be waking up any time soon so Jensen heads up to his room and sets his alarm for six – it'll give them both time to sleep and Jensen doubts Jay will even be awake by then.

 ****

oxo

Jensen's awake before his alarm goes off, probably because of nerves from having a complete stranger in the house. But Jay's still out on the couch, right arm hanging over the side, knuckles grazing the carpet, his mouth slightly open.

Jensen retrieves Jay's shirt from the dryer and fills a glass up with water from the tap before grabbing the bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom on his way back into the living room. He sits on the edge of the coffee table and prods Jay's shoulder until the kid grunts sleepily and cracks one hazel eye open. “Jay? My name's Jensen. You passed out in my yard last night.”

“Hmm?” Jay hums, half rolling onto his side and rubbing at his face with his hands. “I'm so _drunk,_ ” he slurs in a rough, too-deep-for-his-looks voice.

“Here. Sit up and take a couple of these.” Jensen nudges Jay again. “Come on. Sit up.”

Jay eyes him blearily, but slowly pulls himself up until he's sitting. “Who're- who're you?”

“Jensen.” He pops open the Tylenol lid and shakes a couple pills out into his palm. “Here.” He holds his hand out and lets the pills drop into Jay's loosely curled fist. “Take those and drink this.”

Jay tosses the Tylenol into his mouth and grabs for the tumbler in Jensen's other hand. It takes two tries, but his fingers finally curl around the glass as he leans up slightly, flat stomach rippling into softly defined ridges, to drink. Water trickles from the corner of his mouth, slips over his jaw and down his throat.

Jensen can do no more than stare at the boy before him as Jay empties the glass and swipes the back of his hand across his lips. “Feeling better?” he asks, handing Jay his clean shirt.

Jay glances down at his bare chest, eyebrows slowly rising. He peers at Jensen through the dark hair that falls across his eyes. “Oh, fuck. Did I- Did we?” He slaps a slow-moving hand to the fly of his jeans.

“No! No. You, um, kind of threw up all over. Outside.”

Jay's slanted eyes widen with something akin to horror. “'m sorry. Did I get it on you?” A large hand reaches out and warm fingers close over Jensen's wrist.

“No. You were done before I found you.”

“Oh.” Jay stares at Jensen, unblinkingly, for a long stretch of moments. “Who're you and where'm I?”

“I'm Jensen,” he says again, slowly, tugging at the collar of Jay's tee to help the kid poke his mess of hair through the opening. “You passed out in my yard and now you're on my couch.” He pauses and picks up Jay's phone from beside his thigh. “I talked to a friend of yours. He said that he and Alice were on their way back to San Antonio and that your roommate got arrested. Well, he thought so anyway. You need new friends.”

Jay stares at his phone in Jensen's outstretched hand. “Alice?”

Jensen shrugs. “Your buddy was pretty trashed. Couldn't make sense of half of what he said.”

Jay nods sagely and takes his phone, flipping it open with this thumb. “ _Ohh._ You talked to _Chad._ He's a dick mosta the time – 'specially when he drinks. He was here for Misha's party. He an' Aldis came up to see me. There was a hooker – you know, one of those funny tube things you smoke?” His eyes droop further the longer he speaks. “So you're takin' care of me?”

“Seems like. Why don't you lay back down and sleep a bit more?”

“Mmkay.”

Jensen makes to get up, empty glass in one hand, bottle of Tylenol in the other, but Jay stops him with a hand on his knee.

“Hey, Jason?”

“It's _Jensen._ ”

Jay's sleepy eyes blink open and hazily focus on Jensen's mouth. “Thanks.” He lurches forward and presses an awkward, wet, open-mouthed kiss to the side of Jensen's chin.

Jensen just gently pushes him down to the cushions. “You're welcome, kid.”

“'m not a kid,” Jay says petulantly, turning onto his side to face the back of the couch.

Jensen watches him for a couple minutes from the doorway before flipping the light switch off and heading into the dining room. He can't sleep now, feeling the phantom touch of Jay's tongue on his skin and imagining the slick glide of it- Jensen has to stop that train of thought before it gets too far from the station and opens the physiology text book he'd left on the table while studying the day before. He's got a final in less than a week he should be studying for instead of entertaining dirty thoughts of the kid on his couch a room away.

 ****

oxo

Shortly after nine there's a loud thud in the living room that's immediately followed by some cursing so colorful even Chris' would be impressed. “Mother fucking sonofabitch,” Jay says from the floor between the couch and the coffee table as Jensen enters the room.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Jensen asks.

Jay tilts his head back to look at Jensen upside down. “I'm concussed.”

Jensen laughs and watches Jay roll over and climb up off the floor to sit back on the couch. “Or maybe just hungover.”

Jay aims a wide, bright, deep-dimpled smile Jensen's way. “Yeah. Or that.” He runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down, but it still sticks out in odd tufted angles. “I'm Jared, by the way. “You're Jay...something with a 'J,' right?”

“Jensen, yeah.”

“Jensen.” Jared nods. “So...I vaguely remember talking to you last night.”

“That was actually this morning. Just a few hours ago.”

Jared nods again. “I passed out in your yard, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that's embarrassing.” His smile turns sheepish and he picks his phone up from the coffee table. “And somebody – somebody got arrested? Was it Chad? Asshole deserves it for letting me wander off.”

“Your roommate?”

“Misha?”

“I think so, maybe.”

“Oh.”

“The guy that called and your other friend were going to San Antonio.”

“Figures. Chad only ever thinks of himself. I'll be surprised if it was Aldis he had with him.” He rubs his palms over his thighs and stands. “So, uh, thanks for letting me crash, man.”

“It wasn't a problem.”

“Maybe I'll see you around campus sometime.”

Jensen nods, still not quite believing Jared's old enough for college because he barely looks old enough to shave. He doesn't really want him to go, but it's not like he can beg him to stay, either. There's something _here,_ Jensen thinks, but he can't be entirely sure it's not just the fact he hasn't gotten laid in months. He walks Jared to the front door and watches him leave, offers a wave when Jared turns around to look at the house, eyes roving the rough-looking yard and weathered paint before offering Jensen a salute.

 ****

oxo

A week later, as per typical dead-week tradition, Chris and Jensen have the house party prepared for their Saturday night blow-out to kick off the weekend and the five classless days of partying (or studying, depending on finals difficulty) that will follow. Of course, this year's different because Chris and the band are playing at a bar a stone's throw from campus and their house from nine until eleven. Everybody's headed there first, then they'll all meet back up at Chris and Jensen's.

It's just after eight when Jensen climbs out of the shower and he's barely had time to dry himself off, much less get dressed, when Chris hollers at him from the living room something completely muffled by the door and nearly half the house between them. He tugs on his boxer-briefs and stalks out of the room. “What?” he asks, stepping though the doorway to the living room, eyes widening as his gaze lands on Jared standing just inside the front door.

“I said,” Chris begins, devious smirk curling up one corner of his mouth, “your jailbait friend is here. Bearing gifts.”

Jared holds up a six pack of bottles from a microbrewery outside of town. “Hey. As a thanks. For last weekend.”

Jensen suddenly becomes aware of his near nakedness when Jared's gaze slips down his body and lingers low. “Oh. Yeah. You're welcome. Um, let me – I'm gonna go get dressed. Why don't you, uh, hang out for a minute and I'll be right back. Chris, you wanna put those in the fridge?”

Chris' smirk widens into a feral grin. “Sure thing, Jenny.”

Jensen flips him the bird and glances at Jared one more time before retreating to his bedroom. He shimmies into his favorite pair of worn and frayed jeans and pulls a black t-shirt on over his damp hair. Socks, boots, a quick scrub of a bit of pomade through his hair, and he's back in the living room with a nervous-looking Jared. “Hey.”

Jared smiles at him. “Hey.”

“So, we're headed to The Dugout – Chris, my roommate, is in a band and they're playing tonight. You wanna tag along?”

“Um...I don't know.” He rubs at the back of his neck with one of his large hands.

“It's just for a couple of hours,” Jensen says, feeling nearly desperate for Jared's company. The kid's been on his mind all week and he wants to get to know him better. Wants to know how that poorly-aimed kiss would feel if it would have met its mark. “Then we're having a party here tonight. It'll be fun. And nobody's gonna get arrested.”

“Let's hope not,” Chris says, grabbing his jacket from the back of the ratty recliner as he strides back into the room and heads for the door. “Y'all comin', or what?”

Jared glances from Jensen to Chris and back again. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

Jensen claps him on the back, grips his shoulder lightly, and gives him a little push towards the door. “Awesome.”

The bar's within walking distance of Jensen and Chris', and they make idle chit-chat to pass the time. Jensen learns that Jared's a junior, that his high school had an engineering program that earned him credits towards not only his high school graduation but also counted as credits through a local community college. Between those engineering classes as well as the other college courses he'd taken outside of school through the same community college, he'd had enough credits to start as a junior. And that was seriously impressive. Jensen tells him as much, making a face at Chris when his best friend smirks at him over his shoulder. Chris just laughs and slips around to the back of the bar where Jensen can see Steve and the rest of the guys unloading their equipment from the back of Steve's van.

“See you inside,” Jensen calls after him.

“So, what are you majoring in?” Jared asks, following Jensen through the crooked screen door out front.

“Sports medicine. I'm going to be a physical therapist.”

“That's cool,” Jared nods. “How'd you get into that?”

“Messed up my knee pretty bad playing ball in high school,” Jensen shrugs and motions towards the bar. “What're you drinking?”

 ****

oxo

Jensen's easily buzzed by the time Chris and Steve's set is over and he knows Jared's doing just as well; possibly worse – or better, depending on your stance on slightly-drunken groping, because Jared is touching him constantly as they talk. A hand to Jensen's wrist as he tilts his head back and laughs at an embarrassing, less than flattering story Mike tells about another party they'd over the summer when Jensen had woken up with half an eyebrow. A brush of fingers to his knee and his shoulder as Jared leans in to be heard over the noise and tells him about an embarrassing story of his own where he'd passed out at a party and his friends had put makeup all over his face then dragged him out to breakfast in the wee hours of morning – he wouldn't have known if it hadn't been for the waitress' stare.

But as they leave the bar to head back toward the house, Jared slings an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close. “Thanks for inviting me out, man,” he says. “I'm having a lot of fun.”

“Good. I'm glad.” Jensen slaps Jared in the middle of the back and drops his hand to Jared's hip, hoping he hasn't been misreading the kid's signals all night. He lets his thumb ruck up the hem of Jared's shirt enough to reveal a narrow sliver of warm, smooth skin. Jared's arm tightens around him.

“Good.” Jared's nose brushes against Jensen's temple when he turns to speak to him, they're so close. “I was nervous,” he admits, breath tickling Jensen's ear.

“About what?” Jensen lets his thumb stroke Jared's skin lightly, turns his head just enough to glance up at Jared from the corner of his eye.

“Seeing you again.”

“Why?”

Jared shrugs and the movement only draws Jensen closer to his body. “I was embarrassed. How you found me, you know? Then how I bailed. And you were so nice and...nobody's ever taken care of me like that. Why did you?”

“I don't know,” Jensen says, looking up at Jared. “Couldn't _not_ do it. Wish you would've stayed. Could've made you breakfast, helped you sober up a bit more.” He hopes Jared understands what he's implying.

Jared nods, ruffling Jensen's hair. “So, this party...” And that's a brush-off if Jensen's ever heard one.

Jensen drops his hand from Jared's waist, a little confused and bit uncomfortable now. “Yeah. You don't have to stay if you don't want to. Probably got better things to do, huh?”

Jared's hand comes up, knuckles grazing Jensen's cheek. “How long do _you_ gotta stay? Think you could sneak away?”

“What?” Jensen's stomach twists and his heart does this wild little hopeful flutter.

“What?” Jared echos, arm falling from Jensen's shoulders as he shifts away to put distance between them. “I thought- shit. I'm sorry, man.” He scrubs at his face with both of his hands before dragging them through his hair and gripping the back of his skull. The way he's got his arms raised makes his tee ride up, baring a wide strip of skin and a narrow trail of dark hair that disappears into jeans so low his hip bones protrude from above the denim waistband along with a tiny glimpse of white elastic.

He _hadn't_ read Jared wrong and he feels ridiculously elated by that, closes the gap between them and presses his thumbs to the twin juts of his hip bones. “Don't be sorry, Jay. I'm not.” He presses his mouth to Jared's, swipes his tongue over Jared's bottom lip and licks into his mouth when he's granted access nearly immediately.

“Not sorry,” Jared breathes against his tingling lips when they break apart. He laughs and puts his arm back around Jensen's shoulders, walking a bit faster than before and Jensen feels the same need to hurry.

The two blocks back to the house pass in a blur and by some stroke of luck, nobody's there yet. Jensen fumbles his keys and his phone out of his pockets, calls up Chris while he unlocks the door. “Hey, Chris, I'm-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris interrupts. “Go mess around with your jailbait boyfriend. I'm sending Mike and Tom over to hold down the fort while me an' Steve finish loading the van with Will and Ryan.”

“He's not-”

“Whatever, Jenny,” Chris laughs and hangs up.

Jensen shoves his phone back into his pocket and pushes the door open, gesturing Jared to follow him. “So, no appearance necessary,” he says, heading for the kitchen.

“I don't want you to miss your party,” Jared tells him, leaning against the door frame as he watches Jensen retrieve the beer he'd brought from the fridge.

“There'll be plenty other parties.” He passes Jared a bottle and pulls one out the cardboard container for himself, prying the lid off with a ring and tossing it onto the counter. “C'mon. Let's go upstairs.”

Jared follows, down the short hall and round the corner into the dining room, up the stairs to the right of the doorway. There's a small landing at the top of the stairs, a window in the wall behind him and a door on each of the other three.

Jensen rounds the wooden bannister to the left and pushes through the half-open door into his room, pushing it closed behind Jared. “You cool to hang out up here?”

Jared sets his unopened bottle of beer down on the corner of Jensen's desk and moves closer. “Yeah.” He takes the cardboard container from Jensen and places it beside his beer before taking the bottle from Jensen's hand and tilting it up to his mouth. Jensen's half-empty bottle ends up on the desk as well. “You didn't bring me up here to drink beer, did you?”

“No.”

“Didn't think so.” Jared's hands go to Jensen's waist as he dips his head to catch Jensen's mouth in a kiss before they slip down to Jensen's ass to pull their bodies flush together.

“Good to see your aim's improved,” Jensen smiles as Jared starts nipping a trail down his throat. He buries a hand in Jared's hair and lets the fingers of the other catch in the waistband of Jared's jeans and pulls him back towards the bed.

Jared pushes Jensen down to the mattress, kneels between his spread thighs, and leans back in to slot their mouths together. “Aim?”

“Last weekend?” Jensen's hands slide up under Jared's shirt, nails scratching lightly over heated flesh. “You were just about sucking on my chin.”

Jared pulls back, eyes wide. “What?”

Jensen just laughs and pulls Jared's body down on top of his. “It was your way of thanking me.”

“Sucking on your _chin_?”

“Nearly. Just...bad eye-mouth coordination I guess. You were pretty drunk.”

Jared buries his face in Jensen's neck to hide the shame that colors his cheeks a flattering shade of pink. “Don't worry about it, Jay.” He lifts his hips from the bed in a slow roll, hands on Jared's ass to hold him close.

A couple of gentle bites to Jensen's throat, slick swipe of tongue to soothe the sting. “Gonna do whatever I can to make you forget about that.”

“That so?”

“Mmhmm.” Jared holds himself above Jensen's body just enough to fit his hand between them, thumbs open the button of Jensen's jeans and tugs down the zipper, slips his hand inside. His fingers curve to fit to the shape Jensen's hard cock through the thin cotton of his underwear.

Jensen arches into the light touch seeking friction, slips one of his own hands down the back of Jared's jeans to palm his ass. “Don't remember what I'm s'posed to be forgetting,” he says, feels Jared's smile against his neck.

“You're such a liar.” Jared leans up and tugs his shirt off, reaches for Jensen's, rids him of it and starts on his jeans.

“Sorry,” Jensen says, failing to hold back his smirk as he shimmies out of constricting denim.

“You _aren't._ ” Jared finishes stripping and straddles Jensen's thighs.

Jensen palms Jared's hips. “No, I'm really not.” One hand skims up Jared's side, over his chest, along the column of his throat, fingers curling around the back of Jared's neck to pull him down for another kiss.

Jared's tongue sweeps into Jensen's mouth and he shifts forward, bases of their dicks bumping together. Rising up on his knees to settle his forearms on either side of Jensen's head, Jared slots his cock into the crease of Jensen's hip and thigh and thrusts shallowly, slow drag of hot-damp skin. “'s okay. I forgive you.”

They're rutting like teenagers – which, Jensen thinks, is actually true in Jared's case – but it's still good. Not as good as what it _could_ be because Jared's pretty proportional and Jensen can admit to himself that, yes, he'd really like to have Jared buried inside of him right now. But they barely know each other and this is more than he'd hoped for the last time he'd seen Jared. So he rocks harder up against Jared's firm stomach in the slick mess of precome smeared across Jared's belly. “So close,” he pants into Jared's open mouth.

“Yeah?” He snakes a huge hand between them again, grips Jensen roughly. “You gonna come for me, Jensen?”

Jared's teeth find his throat again, sharp little bites followed by stinging suction. He tangles his fingers in Jared's hair and holds his head steady. “Yeah, Jay.”

“Come on. Come for me.”

A couple more rough tugs and the press of Jared's thumb against the bundle of nerves just below the head of his cock and Jensen's spurting thickly over Jared's fist and his own stomach. “Fuck, Jay.”

“Shit,” Jared breathes, sitting back on his heels, his hand slicked with Jensen's come wrapping tightly around his own dick, stripping himself with efficient strokes.

Jensen covers Jared's hand with his own, fits his fingers between Jared's and adds a little more pressure as he changes the angle, alters the speed. “Come on, Jay, mark me up.”

“Oh, _shit,_ ” Jared gasps. “Jensen.” His whole body tenses over Jensen's as he comes hard enough for a jet of come to stripe Jensen's throat and the underside of his chin, hot white ropes over his chest. “So fucking hot.”

Jensen braces himself on his clean hand and sits up, crushing his mouth to Jared's in a bruising kiss, more teeth than tongue. “God, Jared.”

Jared returns the kiss just as fiercely, wraps his arms around Jensen's back to keep them both upright. When they're both nearly breathless, their chests sticking with their tacky combined come, Jared drops his head to Jensen's shoulder. “So...”

“Mmhmm?”

“What are the chances I get breakfast in the morning even if I'm not hungover?”

Jensen laughs aloud and pushes Jared onto his back between his legs. “I think I liked you better last week.”

Jared's laughing too, hard enough the bed shakes with it. “Already told you, man. You're a bad liar.”

Shaking his head, Jensen leans over the side of the bed and retrieves his t-shirt from the floor and starts wiping himself down before throwing it at Jared's face. “Yeah, I'll make you breakfast.”

Jared scrubs at his chest and hand and tosses the dirty shirt back onto the floor before launching himself at Jensen with surprising energy. He pushes Jensen down to the mattress and plasters himself against his side. “Awesome.”

Jensen shakes his head and holds Jared close, lets the sound of Jared breathing and the muted thump of bass from the party going strong downstairs lull him to sleep.


End file.
